Indeed Pastor Mohr was a man of eccentric habits. Once, on the day the Holy Night, Pastor Moh: sat in his snow hut in the mountain He had gone thither to prepare his Christmas sermon. The little stove shed warmth while the apples, which the good pastor had brought along. roasted and danced on its lid. On the erade wooden table stood, a light. its golden beams dispelling the darkness, as though the dear Lord himself were present.
Suddenly a blast of wind blew open the window, and a drift of snow fell into the room. Te light flickered for a moment, then seemed to shine brighter as though anticipating the appearance of a miracle. Deep joy and great peace filled the pastor's heart. Hf gazed out of the on to the heavens above. A si star shone over the hut; he knew now how it was when Christ was born.
The thought overwhelmed him, he grasped his goosequil and wrote on a slip of pape fille Nacht, Heilige Nacht" ("Silent night. Holy night").
The words came like flowers in the field, like small trees of the fores they grew, beautiful rhymes embraced them. The miracle had come!—Up jumped the pastor, danced about the hut. He must tell others of this ly only come there to see the show, and not from any feelings of political affection.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.